


At This Hour

by everytimeyougo



Category: The Good Wife (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-26
Updated: 2014-04-26
Packaged: 2018-01-20 22:24:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,271
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1527860
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/everytimeyougo/pseuds/everytimeyougo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kurt hears about the courthouse shootings on the radio</p>
            </blockquote>





	At This Hour

The radio plays softly in the background, a melancholy George Jones tune that barely registers as he focuses on typing up his client report, hunting and pecking, but making good progress. When the song ends, the familiar three note fanfare that signals the news at the top of the hour breaks through his concentration. It's three o'clock already. He's supposed to meet Diane at six, and he still has two more reports to write. Shaking out his fingers, he picks up his coffee mug and takes a swallow, wincing at the lukewarm contents. He stands, intending to zap the remaining half cup.

"At this hour," the radio announcer intones, "we are receiving reports of a shooting at the Cook County Courthouse. Details are sketchy, but it is believed that someone has opened fire inside one of the courtrooms…"

The coffee mug hits the floor, its handle breaking off and spinning away, coffee splashing across the floor.

Diane.

He grabs his phone, cursing as he fumbles with the passcode and contacts screen until her name finally appears. Tapping her cell number, he holds it up to his ear. "Come on," he mutters. "Answer."

But she doesn't.

He tries once more with the same result, then chooses her number at Lockhart/Gardner instead.

"Diane Lockhart's office," her assistant blurts after the second ring. There's a panicked quality to the young woman's voice that frightens him even more.

"It's McVeigh," he says, too far gone for pleasantries. "Where's my wife?"

"Oh my god, Mr. McVeigh, I… She's not here. There's a situation…"

"I know. The courthouse. She's there?"

"No. I mean, not now. She was. Kalinda called in a couple of minutes ago. She's with Ms. Lockhart; they're going to the hospital. I don't know…"

He doesn't wait to find out what she doesn't know. Ending the call, he shoves his phone in his pocket, and sprints to his truck.

The drive into Chicago is the longest one he's ever made. The radio has no answers for him, but he doesn't dare turn it off in case that changes. Diane's cell is now going directly to voicemail. He leaves one message, simply asking her to call, but he holds little hope she will. Mostly he spends the drive praying. Praying, and furiously rejecting the images forming in his mind, pictures of Diane and red, red blood pooling under her motionless body.

Illegally parking at the curb near the Emergency Department entrance, he dashes inside, going directly to the admitting desk. The nurse behind it is talking in hushed tones on the telephone. As he starts to interrupt her, she holds up one finger, then lowers her head, turning away from him. Agitated, he shoves his hands in his pockets and turns around, eyes searching the immediate vicinity for Diane, for Kalinda, for anyone he knows, or anyone who might have some answers.

And then he sees her.

She's alone in a hallway just off the waiting room, folded over on an uncomfortable, plastic chair, her face buried in her hands. The world tilts and he has to grasp the counter for support as the breath rushes out of him, because only now, when he can finally see for himself that she's safe, does he allow the full impact of all the other potential outcomes to hit him. He could have lost her. Dear lord, he could have lost her.

Breathing in quickly, he releases his hold on the desk, and scrubbing at his face with his hand, he walks over to her. "Diane," he says when he's still a few feet away. She lifts her head and looks at him, her eyes glassy and her face tear-stained, and for a moment it's like she doesn't even recognise him. But then her hand flies up to cover her mouth, not quite in time to muffle the sob that escapes, and in that instant he knows.

A couple more steps and he's standing in front of her, pulling her to her feet and gathering her up in his arms.

"Will?" he asks, though he already knows the answer. She's trembling, her breath hitching as she attempts to control her tears. He can feel her nod against his shoulder.

"He's dead," she says after a moment. "Oh god, Kurt. He's dead."

It had occurred to him once, shortly after they were engaged, that perhaps he should be jealous of Will Gardner. Not because of any romantic or sexual attraction between his fiancée and her partner, but simply because of how bonded they were. There was an ease between them, a shorthand of words and expressions that is often seen between long-term couples, and that he and Diane simply hadn't had time to develop. A younger version of himself probably wouldn't have dealt with that very well. In this moment, he's very grateful for the understanding age has given him.

Later he can't recall what exactly they say to each other as they lean together against the wall in the bright, antiseptic hospital hallway, murmuring words of shared sorrow and dazed bewilderment at how life can turn on a dime.

"I saw you called," she says at one point. "I'm sorry. I didn't…I couldn't…"

"It's okay," he interrupts, squeezing her hand. He will never tell her how terrified he was during that interminable drive from the farm to the hospital. It will help no one for her to feel guilty about how she reacted during her fear and her grief. "I get it."

They're still there when Kalinda emerges from a room down the hall, pale and more fragile looking than he could have ever have imagined the tough investigator looking. Beside him he can almost see Diane slipping her Senior Partner mask back in place before she walks over to the other woman and rests a hand on her arm.

"We should go back to the office. People need to know what's happened."

Kalinda nods, and walks silently past him toward the exit.

"Do you want me to come with you?" he asks when Diane returns to his side.

She shakes her head. "No. I have to do this alone. The partners might cut me some slack today, but there's going to be a fight soon. I can't walk in there with a crutch."

Younger Kurt might have taken this personally, but Kurt of today knows she's right. That place can be as venomous as any vipers' nest, and without Will on her side to help keep the overly ambitious and opportunistic at bay, she is going to be in for a battle. So he simply puts his arm around her one more time and lends her whatever strength he can.

They walk together as far as Kalinda's car. "I'll be at the condo," he tells her as she get in the passenger side. "Call me if you need anything."

She nods, almost smiles, but he can tell she's already out of his reach for now. "I love you," he says anyway.

After they drive off, he turns and walks back to his own vehicle. The sky is darkening, as though night is coming early today. He opens the door to his truck, but doesn't get in right away. He looks in the direction Diane has gone, out of the parking lot and into the city, then back to the hospital doors, then off into the distance, at nothing in particular.

"I'll always be right there behind her, Will, whether she makes it easy or not. You don't have to worry about that."

Getting in his truck, he starts it up and puts it in gear.


End file.
